All of the Unsure
by Karen Kannabilly
Summary: Dexer\Reader- or OC from your POV. A somewhat over analytical individual with a socially phobic leaning and your interaction with the donut guy.


_**A\N: This is indeed weird, I think, but I'm more or less just trying to shake off my sadness over the finale.**_

_**Dexter is copyrighted to Jeff Lindsey and Showtime, I in no way own anything.**_

All of the motions, every eb and countless flow. All the caution that disallowed your mingling in them; the unsure that created an inexorable obstacle.

The openness of this lot provided a stark contrast to the usual mundane, if not cold, atmosphere of work environments you'd become accustomed to. Tacking the pads of your finger against the keyboards of a computer and sipping coffee between the short interval of lunch without having to interact was a usual; receiving a light pat on the curve of your shoulder or a few jokes tossed for your amusement was not.

Miami Metro's Homicide Unit appeared a group of friends as opposed to simple coworkers. Most might find the thought charming, but for you it'd been uncomfortable and a chance for awkward situation to shine. Cagey and locked up, you were flustered even by the movement you employed in getting your cup of coffee and returning with it to your desk; _what if one of them spoke to you?_

The elevator doors parted and allowed an individual through, white and horizontal carton decorated with red design in hand. His usual, his 'thing'. The donut guy. The Blood Spatter Analyst. If it weren't for your coworkers speaking to him within your general vicinity, you may never have come into knowledge over his name.

_Dexter Morgan._

Facial features painting an attractive smile and turn of his jaw during that expression of emotion, eyes that glinted with a compelling warmth. His voice containing that same welcoming temperature- _It's okay to talk to me. I'm a nice guy._

It wasn't until relatively recently he'd stood beside the desk you occupied, open box of goodies being offered to you after others had been quick to snatch their own share. He'd apologized slightly for failing to see if you'd like one during your first few days at Miami Metro- but you only managed a polite shake of your head, that and the following mornings he walked by to show them to you.

It wasn't that they weren't appealing. The assortment of ring-shaped cakes, some glossed over in glistening but clear and cracked glaze, others with neatly coated tops of chocolate icing and messily scattered sprinkles referring a rainbow. Extra minutes of sleep took incorrect precedence over the meal of the day, to add a twist to difficulty, and waiting for lunch wasn't a ball as a result.

His friendly smile greeted you again, and your belly knotted in want at the faint smell the confections carried. Today was one of the rush-out-the-door ilk.

"Makes the morning faster." Dexter commented.

_Take one. Just... take one and thank him..._

You reached upward, but your fingers stiffened in the tips and your tongue paused as it clicked against the backs of your teeth- even the workings of your mind seemed to briefly turn to likewise statue at the realization you'd never said his name aloud.

_Would it sound... weird to address him as Dexter? Dex? Morgan? Should I even say his na-_

He shook the box with a slight twitch of his forearm, the audible movement of the treats it held squeezing impatiently against your inner search for what would be appropriate. The corners of his mouth, however, quirked along with an eyebrow to convey the remaining politeness in him. "Plenty left. No worries."

"I... I shouldn't," Your fingers finally moved in a wave before partly attempting to cover an embarrassed smile. "So much sugar can't do me any good."

Dexter's lips screwed together- and you again couldn't help but to analyze the notion, watching them dip and push into one another before pulling to the left in a kinked, lopsided grin. Hands moved fluidly to grasp two glazed discs, setting them on the napkin inches from the tan and wet crescent your caffeine-topped cup had imprinted on the white of it. You blinked at them, as if asking the donuts themselves why he'd given them to you.

"Indulge yourself every now and again. You don't have to be shy here- we don't bite." He nodded, maybe even winked, before turning to leave.

"..._Dexter._" Your voice cracked to press its way out of you, all the caution and unsure imbuing that somehow significant name you'd never spoken outside of thought composed walls.

His neck swiveled back, eyebrows raised and retina on you.

"Thank you," A sincere smile flashed, the feel of it pleasant and comfortable. "Dexter."


End file.
